


So Long, Lonesome

by oftheunknown



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, PREATH - Freeform, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 03:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18357986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oftheunknown/pseuds/oftheunknown
Summary: An evolution.orTobin pines desperately for Alex. It takes a broken heart for her to realize that Christen has been the one all along.





	So Long, Lonesome

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote and posted this almost three years ago, originally. I rediscovered it at 2am and transformed it into a work that more closely resembles what I wanted it to be so long ago.
> 
> Some liberties were taken with the timeline in this one.

Tobin thinks she’d wait forever for Alex.

She’s no stranger to waiting; she’s experienced more than her fair share of it. She’s grown accustomed to watching the clock, counting the hours, following those analog hands as they spin and spin until she’s sick to her stomach. She is resolved to it, an athlete whose life revolves around waiting -- for the start of a match, for layovers in airports, for call-ups that she used to fear may never come again -- and yet somehow she has never gotten used to it. She always feels that familiar weight in her chest, that deep-seated impatience that comes with being anchored to an expectation, imprisoned by the clock, when all she would rather do is move.

Even such, as much as it often pains her, she can be patient. It has been ingrained into her at this point. It will never feel natural to her, she thinks. She cannot stand to be still, but will do it all the same.

So Tobin waits -- even now, when there is nothing to wait for.

//

“You love him,” Tobin says. “Of course it’s a good idea.”

Her voice shakes. She can feel the sting behind her eyes, wetness growing in the corners, welling up there in a way that threatens to betray her. She pretends that it’s because she’s happy.

She should be happy. Alex is getting married. She’s never had a closer friend, a more trusted confidant, a truer ally. So all things considered, she should be over the moon for this woman whom she has cared for all these years. It is a blessing that Alex has found someone who can love her the way she deserves. Tobin grasps that wholeheartedly, but the sparkling of diamond on Alex’s finger reminds her that no matter how hard she might try, she cannot be that someone.

There’s a moment of quiet after she speaks. For a long second, Tobin’s mind flashes with all of the answers she wants to hear. She wants Alex to come to terms with her sudden affliction of cold feet, to realize that she’s missing something and confess to feeling all of the things that Tobin feels so desperately.

Tobin has always been religious, but as the silence between their words grows longer still, she thinks she has never been more so.

Alex finally speaks. “You’re right,” she says. “I do. Thank you, that’s what I needed to hear.”  
Her face softens, and she reaches her arms out to pull Tobin into a crushing embrace. Alex lets out a deep sigh of relief, and Tobin’s world comes crashing down around her.

//

She hadn’t planned on going. The day she received her invitation from Alex, read her name next to his in fountain pen on pretty white stationary, she laid awake in bed for hours thinking of ways to escape the ceremony. Eventually, she settled on a fabricated family reunion in New Jersey that just so happened to conflict with Alex’s wedding.

(“You know how they are,” Tobin would tell her. “I can’t say no, they never get together like this.”)

It was a lame excuse, she knew. Alex would be devastated that Tobin would miss such a meaningful day. But Tobin could hardly stand to see them together as it was, how could she possibly sit there and watch them commit their lives to one another?

It was a few days later that Alex approached her to ask about the wedding. Tobin was struggling to refill her water bottle at the mostly-empty cooler on the sidelines after a long, sweltering practice. She saw Alex coming out of the corner of her eye and immediately felt her face grow hotter than it already was. She thanked the warm spring day for flushing her cheeks and disguising her rising blush. When Alex reached out her hand and squeezed Tobin’s shoulder, her hand fumbled at the spigot of the cooler and a rush of cold water splashed onto her hands.

“Hey, Tobs,” Alex started, a grin blooming on her lips as she watched Tobin frantically dry her hands on her sweaty shirt. “Having trouble?”

“Yeah,” Tobin responded quickly. “Cooler’s pretty much empty.” She grabbed the cooler at the back and began to tilt it toward her, attempting again to get water into her bottle.

“You got my invite?” Alex asked, eyes bright.

“Uh, yep,” Tobin replied. “Sure did.”

“Wasn’t it so pretty? It took Serv and I forever to pick out that stationary. He wanted blue but I figured white would fit much better with our theme.”

Tobin nodded along dutifully, trying to press the spigot open and hold her water bottle with the same hand.

“Have you figured out what you’re going to wear yet? I know how much you love formal occasions,” Alex teased.

At the mention of her attending Alex’s wedding, Tobin felt a rush of nerves rise in her throat.

“Actually, I don’t --”

Startled by her own rising panic, Tobin lost grip on the cooler. It lurched forward, water sloshing, spilling out of her bottle and out of the spout and onto her shoes. She slammed the cooler back onto the bench with her knee, letting out a startled hiss as the cool liquid made contact with her hot skin. Alex lept backwards, and Tobin could hear her quiet, suppressed laughter.

“Wow,” Tobin heard. But it wasn’t Alex -- it was Christen, approaching the two of them with her shoes in her hand. Her hair was down and flowing over her shoulders, framing her flushed face. “What’d that cooler ever do to you?”

Tobin, who was squishing her toes in her now-wet cleats, was thankful for the momentary distraction. “It’s nearly empty,” she explained, gesturing to the object of her frustrations.

Christen came around the other side of the bench and began tilting the cooler forward again. “Here,” she said. “Try again.”

“Thanks, Chris.” Tobin bent forward to retrieve her bottle from the ground.

“I was just asking Tobin what she was gonna wear to the wedding,” Alex spoke up.

Tobin looked up and found Christen’s eyes locked on her. There was a look in her eyes that Tobin recognized all too well.

“Well, let’s hear it then,” Christen said expectantly, her chin tilting.

“Ah, well,” Tobin began. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she cast a nervous glance up at Christen. “About that --”

“I think you should wear that cream-colored one you got last month for the party you ended up skipping,” Christen interjected. There was a warning look in her eyes, and Tobin winced. “The one with the black belt?”

“Oh!” Alex interjected excitedly. “You’d look great! Especially now that we’ve all gotten tanned up since we started training again.”

Christen laughed. “Tobin is always tan.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Trust me, I’m so aware. It makes me mad.”

Tobin let out a forced chuckle. “Yeah, that’s me,” she said. “But yeah, Al, I --”

Again, Christen cut in, “Can’t wait, right? Alex, it’s going to be such a great day, yeah? Aren’t you so excited?”

“Yes,” Alex breathed. “I was just on the phone with my mom this morning, we’re still trying to get the florist to accommodate…”

As Alex went on, Tobin’s eyes met Christen’s again. Immediately, Tobin knew that her friend was on to her. As one of her only confidants privy to what they called her “Alex Situation,” it became clear to Tobin that Christen had caught on to her plan to avoid the wedding. The look in Christen’s eyes was, Tobin thought, a little frightening. You better not pull what I think you’re going to pull, it said.

“It’s so exhausting but I know that if I don’t do it, it’ll never get done.” Alex was still speaking, but Tobin had missed all of it. “Anyways, definitely wear that dress, Tobs, you’ll look incredible.”

“I agree,” Christen said, shifting her gaze away from Tobin’s to flash a smile at Alex. “She will, won’t she? Of course, it’s your big day, Alex, I can’t wait to see what your dress looks like!”

Alex’s grin grew wider. “Guess you’ll both just have to wait and see when the day comes around, right?”

“Definitely!” Christen responded. She had moved around the bench again and was standing with her shoulder pressed behind Tobin’s. “Right, Tobin?”

Tobin felt Christen’s hand nudge at her back. “Uh,” Tobin started. Another nudge. A few seconds of silence, Alex’s eyes glowing, looking expectantly at her. “Definitely,” she echoed.

“Awesome.” Alex said, positively beaming.

She and Christen launched into another conversation, but Tobin didn’t hear either of them.

//

Even though she knew it meant the world to Alex, sometimes Tobin wishes she hadn’t gone to the wedding.

She wishes she hadn’t seen the golden sunlight in Alex’s eyes when “I do” tumbled so effortlessly from her lips. She wishes she hadn’t heard the adoration, the affection in his voice when he’d read his vows, lines of soft-spoken poetry that made tears spill down Alex’s flushed cheeks. But most of all, Tobin wishes she could forget what the beginning of the rest of Alex’s life had looked like, because she can’t stop thinking that she’ll spend the rest of hers pining for a role that has already been filled.

Sometimes, Tobin thinks that if it weren’t for Christen’s sympathetic hand on her knee during the ceremony, she wouldn’t have been there at all.

//

It’s dark in Chicago when Tobin turns up on Christen’s doorstep.

Tobin sees the look of surprise on Christen’s face when she opens the door and flinches. Christen is dressed in a big, white t-shirt so long that it reaches her mid-thigh, and her hair is falling out of a low, precarious bun. Her eyes look heavy, and Tobin is immediately hit with a wave of guilt.

She shouldn’t have come here, especially not this late. She’s never felt so stupid, standing there with a ratty old backpack hanging off her shoulder and a duffel bag in her hand.

“Tobin,” Christen says, blinking. Her voice sounds neither questioning nor confused.

“Chris, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have, it’s just that she called me yesterday and they’re still on their honeymoon and I don’t know why but I just --”

“Tobin,” Christen says again, this time with a heaviness in her voice that Tobin can’t quite place. Before she can speak again, Christen reaches out her arms and pulls Tobin flush against her. Tobin’s duffel bag drops to the floor unceremoniously and her hands make their way tentatively around Christen’s waist. The soft body pressed against her makes Tobin starkly aware of her own tense posture.

“Come here,” Christen eventually pulls herself away from Tobin, her voice thick with sleepiness. Her fingers pull at Tobin’s wrist, guiding her into the apartment.

Tobin allows herself to be led through the darkness, their steps illuminated faintly by the soft white-yellow light of the Windy City around them. On the step down from the kitchen into the living room, she stumbles into Christen’s back.

“Careful,” Christen murmurs at her.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t call,” Tobin says.

“I told you that you were welcome any time. I meant that.”

Tobin feels hands on her shoulders, pressing her gently down onto a plush sofa. The back of her knees hit the cushion first, and she falls into the pillows at her back. Christen sits down beside her, tucking her bare feet underneath her.

“What happened?”

Tobin lets out a long, shaky breath. “I don’t know. She called me, and she’s so happy, and I just couldn’t…” She trails off. When Christen doesn’t prompt her any further, she finishes, “I just couldn’t.”

She feels the familiar sting behind her eyes. Tobin has been expecting this for what seemed like forever, has always known that her infatuation with Alex would only lead to heartache. She knew it was coming, but the reality is only beginning to settle around her. It’s the same reality she’s spent months running from, and now it’s caught up to her, wrapped around her so suddenly that she feels the breath leaving her lungs begin to quicken.

Christen leans forward and wraps her arms around her. She’s warm, and Tobin feels all of the emotion welling up in her chest. “It’s okay,” Christen tells her. Tobin has never heard her voice sound softer than it does then. “You can cry.”

The words shake something deep within her. She feels the tension in her body leave, feels her energy sweep out of her in one wrenching wave, and she finally gives in. She sinks into Christen’s embrace, choking down a sob. She hardly notices that Christen’s T-shirt is soaking through. Her hands fist into the soft cotton fabric at Christen’s back, and she cries.

She cries until she can’t anymore, her eyes burning and her throat sore. The shoulder of Christen’s shirt is wet with tears, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She kisses Tobin chastely on the crown of her head and whispers, “You’re alright, you’ll be okay.”

Tobin doesn’t hear how many times she says it. There’s an ache that has taken up residence in her chest, has wrapped around her like a vice. She feels the pressure at her ribs as she desperately tries to calm her shuddering breaths. Christen must understand, because her fingers comb gently through the hair at the back of Tobin’s neck and her lips press against her temple. She’s speaking, still, whispering so softly that Tobin can’t make out what she’s saying over the sound of her own sniffles.

She doesn’t remember falling asleep, just that she wakes up with her head on Christen’s chest and a blanket wrapped tight around her shoulders, an Illinois sunrise peeking through the window blinds.

//

Christen’s smile is genuine as she slides a cup of jasmine tea across the wooden countertop. Tobin looks up at her, sleepy and grateful, wrapping her hands around the hot beverage. She watches the steam rise and curl away from the lip of the cup with tired eyes.

“Thank you,” she says. Her voice is low and hoarse with sleep and her throat is scratching still, yet to recover from the previous night. She’d had dreams of Alex, and they hung in the back of her mind as much as she tried to shake them away. There’s a depth to the way she speaks, though, something else that Christen must understand.

She must understand, because she steps around the counter and lifts herself onto the stool next to Tobin’s. Their knees brush as she leans forward to touch Tobin’s wrist.

“You know I’m here for you, Tobs.”

They’ve been friends for so long, and they’ve shared words like this a hundred times, but there’s something about the way that Christen’s eyes follow every movement of her face. There’s something about the way Tobin’s heart feels a little lighter than it has in months, sitting in a Chicago apartment with Christen next to her. The early morning air blows in from the kitchen window, crisp and cool against her flushing cheeks.

Tobin’s gaze falls away from Christen’s face. She lifts the cup to her lips. Her tea tastes sweet, like sugar and honey. The corners of her mouth rise -- a tentative smile.

“I know,” Tobin answers. “I know.”

//

Christen never mentions her leaving, and Tobin never thinks of it. She doesn’t realize how long she’s been in Chicago until Christen brings it up one night, both of them curled up in a nest of blankets and plush pillows on the living room floor.

“I’m going to miss you when you leave,” Christen says absently, pressing her hand into Tobin’s.

Tobin lifts her head to look at her. Suddenly, she realizes how long she’s been here. Suddenly, she feels more like an invader than a guest, that she’s overstayed her welcome. She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Guilt fills her chest.

Christen must pick up on the shift in Tobin’s demeanor. “I didn’t mean it like that, Tobs. It’s just…” She pauses, and her eyebrows furrow, as though searching for the words to say. “It’s been a month,” she says simply, and her voice is softer this time.

Tobin had not intended to stay at Christen’s for so long. When she showed up three weeks ago, she had been so desperate for a change of scenery, falling apart and heartbroken over Alex, that she thought no further than getting to Christen. She could think of nowhere else to go.

Christen had never pressed for more of an explanation. One week had turned into two, two into three, and before she’d even realized what she was doing, Tobin’s clothes were hanging in Christen’s closet and her face wash was in the cabinet and her shampoo had its own place in the shower.

They had settled in so easily together that neither of them seemed to recognize what had occurred. Tobin had fallen into Christen’s routines very quickly; they ran together in the mornings, bought two shots of espresso afterwards from the same airy cafe, cooked dinner together every evening, Christen laboring over the stove and Tobin reading news articles out loud from the counter.

The domesticity of it all was comforting.

“Has it really been a month?” Tobin murmurs, barely audible over whatever documentary they had been watching.

“Yeah,” Christen says. Tobin watches the blue television light flicker in her eyes, dark and searching.

They don’t say anything. Cristen’s fingers tighten reassuringly around Tobin’s hand, who shifts her head to rest on the other woman’s chest. Tobin falls asleep to the sound of a steady heartbeat, and for the first time in a long time, she doesn’t dream of Alex.

//

The first time Tobin kisses Christen, she takes herself by surprise.

They’re standing at the kitchen window, watching the sun dip below the city skyline, when the realization that she wants to nearly sweeps her over. She reaches out, her fingers trembling, and wraps her hand around Christen’s wrist, knowing she cannot let this fleeting moment of faith fall away.

Christen turns at the movement. She must see the purpose in Tobin’s eyes, because she smiles. She smiles, elegant and beautiful, and Tobin rocks up onto her toes and kisses her.

She tastes like jasmine tea and honey.

And then they’re laughing, full of mirth, Christen’s hands wound into the fabric of Tobin’s shirt collar. Tobin nearly trips over herself pulling Christen closer, wrapping her arms around her waist.

They stand in the kitchen until the sun’s glow begins to fade, Christen’s forehead against Tobin’s shoulder, her breath warm and steady against her collarbone. Tobin shivers, a deep yellow warmth spreading through her.

“What took you so long?” Christen speaks into the silence, her voice sweet and teasing.

Tobin only laughs, pressing her lips to Christen’s flushed cheek.

//

Tobin’s flight back to Portland leaves early on a Tuesday morning.

Christen’s hands curl into the back of her jacket so tightly she thinks it might tear when they say their goodbyes outside the security line. She isn’t crying, but Tobin can see the tears welling up in her eyes. Tobin knows the only reason they haven’t fallen is because they’re in public.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Christen whispers, her eyes never leaving Tobin’s.

“I know,” Tobin says, reaching up to wipe a single tear from the corner of Christen’s eye with the pad of her thumb. “But I’ll be back soon. Promise.” And then, “I’ll miss you, Chris.”

Tobin knows the feeling is mutual when Christen leans forward and kisses her delicately on the lips.

//

Her phone lights up with a text from Christen before she even finds her seat on the plane.

 _I miss you already_ , it reads, and Tobin can no longer hold back the tears she’d been blinking away, something bittersweet welling up inside her chest.

They’ll only be apart for a month or so. It’s a month too long, Tobin thinks, but she could be patient.

Because honestly, she’d wait forever for Christen.


End file.
